Wolf In King's Clothing
by AquaRock
Summary: In a lesser-known planet of the Solana Galaxy, a province awaits the coronation of a new, respectable king. The cameras roll, the reporters, well, report, and the new king is about to be announced...until deception and trickery within the royal family occurs, leading to an elaborate manhunt across the galaxy.
1. Chapter 1

"Oh, Rafael, you look ravishing today!" a mother told her son, clamping her furry hands together and smiling with adoration.

Rafael reciprocated the smile and replied, "Why, thank you, Mum. I did my best to look nice for the upcoming ceremony. Why, that _is _part of becoming king, isn't it?" He chuckled as he looked at himself in the gold-framed mirror on the wall. He was a tall, purple-eyed Lycanian, or, anthropomorphic wolf for human-types, with green spots over his eyes. He was dressed in a red and yellow vest and black dress pants and shoes, looking ready for the occasion.

"If only Reginald were here to see this..." the mother said longingly, her ears and tail drooping. She looked out the window and saw the castle's well-maintained front yard. A beautiful day it was; it was sunny with clear orange skies, not a yellow cloud in sight.

The middle-aged red Lycanian became lost in thought of her late king and lover. Rafael noticed this and frowned. "Mum?" he asked. Then Arabella snapped out of her trance.

She smiled and continued, "But, wherever he is, I'm sure he looks down at you and rests in the afterlife in peace. You're going to make a fine leader, Rafael." She walked around the claw-foot bed to tightly embrace her son.

A beep sounded, and Arabella felt a small vibration from Rafael's hip. The soon-to-be king broke from the hug to read his message.

"Ah, it is time for my interview. It's been fun chatting with you, Mum, but, you know what they say: duty calls. I shall see you at the coronation ceremony. Love you." The mother smiled waved as the Lycanian exited his room.

Immediately after stepping out of his room, Rafael was surrounded by Lycanian bodyguards in yellow Aegis Mark V armor and armed with N90 Hurricanes. His smile did not vanish as he said, "Well, gents, let us away, shall we?"

The bodyguards marched in formation, keeping their next king well-protected in a square arrangement. They traveled down the hallways of the large palace to the commons, where the interview would take place.

An avid, young reporter beamed at the appearance of her future king, The set of bodyguards split from the front to make room for Rafael to pass through. He sat down on his golden plush couch and grinned at the interviewer. The journalist blushed slightly.

"Roll the camera, boys," she told her cameramen. With flips of switches, vermilion "On Air" lights shone on the hovering cameras. The cameramen shifted their focuses a bit before leaving the cameras there. There was a camera perpendicular to the two, a camera facing Rafael, and a camera facing the journalist.

The reporter faced the perpendicular camera and beamed, "Tonight on a special edition of _A Sit-Down with Phyllis, _we have quite a regal guest here. Rafael Sang, the next king of Tregsen, has agreed to speak with us about his life and his feelings about his upcoming coronation." She was unable to stop smiling throughout the introduction.

Rafael sat with a straight back, his feet flat on the luxurious carpet. His hands lay still in his lap, his tail erect, and his eyes completely locked into the golden ones of the reporter's. With a self-assured grin, he looked as confident as ever...

"What are you doing to mentally prepare yourself to become Tregsen's new king?"

...and spoke just as confidently as he looked.

"I have made preparations ever since my father had first fallen ill..."

. . .

Meanwhile, there was serenity in the jungles of Florana. The sun shone brightly through the thick, lush canopy. Insects and avians chattered and chirped in the otherwise silent landscape, the sounds echoing through the jungle. A stinging, foul smell wafted through the murky waters.

A series of aggressive simian screeches sounded from an orange cavern. Laughter followed.

"Sorry, mates, but I have to leave!" a triumphant, modulated voice called from deep within the cavern. Quick, resonant footsteps could be heard from within.

A man scampered across the rocky terrain, racing through the caliginous antre. He had his portable flashlight turned on when the chase scene began. After ascertaining the area was clear of rocks in his immediate path, he took a quick peak behind him. A small group of Nabla natives gave chase to him for trespassing into their territory. The natives used the man's flashlight to find and follow him in the darkness.

The man knew the group was closing in on him and was aware of the natives' aggression. However, that didn't cause a single black fur to be raised from fear. Besides, the exit was just ahead of him, bright light pouring in from the large hole from which he came.

_Just a bit closer_, the man thought as his heart raced as quickly as his legs. If only he had brought his weapons to the cave...

A Nabla native equipped her boomerang and chucked it with paramount precision at the fugitive's legs when his head turned back forward. It hit the side of the man's knee, causing him to stumble over and fall. The natives were able to close more distance between them and him.

The man lay on his stomach and clutched his knee, feeling the fresh wound. He looked at the exit in disbelief; he was just a few seconds away from reaching it without getting hurt. He felt warm liquid and looked down at his knee. With his flashlight on, he could see crimson blood gradually seeping out of a laceration on the side of his patella. He put direct pressure on his wound.

He then heard the natives' footsteps becoming louder, and just realized what had happened. He had been so focused on getting to the exit that he had forgotten the natives used weapons. As soon as the man tried to get up, he found the natives once more, slowly creeping toward him, boomerangs in their hands.

The Lycanian smiled at being nearly surrounded by hostiles and thought of a plan. He stood up and stumbled back down, looking as if he couldn't stand properly with his wound.

"Ah! Alas, I have become lame!" the Lycanian cried, dramatically putting the back of his hand on his forehead. "My chances of liberation have been dashed! Now I am subject to your mercy!" He had to hold back a laugh when the natives stared at him bewilderedly, tilting their heads. "But perhaps it is time for me to face my retribution for my past transgressions..."

His purpose was to distract them long enough to get a head start for running again. The Lycanian tried to decipher their expressions, which was difficult to do given the natives had masks. However, the wolf-like creature did not have to worry about it for much longer when they raised their boomerangs once more.

The natives were close enough to use their boomerangs as melee weapons at that point, and that was what they attempted to do. The one closest to the Lycanian brought his weapon arm back and swung his boomerang at the man's chest.

The man rolled to his left before the boomerang came down on him, feeling dirt and rocks hit his back from the point of impact. When facing the natives again, he stood up and anticipated the next attack.

A native behind the approaching one threw his weapon at the trespasser, the boomerang curving around the native in front and about to hit the wolf. The wolf caught it mid-flight, turning his body a little to retrieve it. As he turned back toward the main attacker, he used an end to strike the native, the weapon colliding with the native's ribs. As the native staggered slightly, the wolf swung his new weapon at the assailant's face, striking him in the jaw. The native was lifted and then fell defeated, his mask lying on the ground next to him.

One down, two to go. The remaining natives stood crept beside each other and both threw their boomerangs at the wolf. Expecting this, the wolf deflected both of the weapons with his own, picked up one of them, and leaned back in laughter as he held one boomerang in each hand.

"Oh, my, how the tables have turned!" the wolf declared. With the dim light from the flashlight, one could see a slight gleam in the wolf's blue eyes. The natives then seemed to deem him invincible, slowly moving back after seeing their weapons deflected, nervous hooting coming from them.

The wolf did not encroach them any longer and dropped his weapons. "I ask that you do not attack me any further. We're square, aren't we? You tried to kill me for trespassing," he gestured to the unconscious native, "I probably killed your leader, and now I can sense you two possibly soiling your loincloths. Why don't we forget all of this ever happened and continue on with our lives, eh?" His voice was calm, collected, and to to the natives, honeyed. Could they really trust someone from an entirely different planet, culture, and background?

The natives, completely disarmed, absconded into the dark, dreary cavern, fearfully screeching as they escaped. The Lycanian smiled at this and traipsed toward the exit.

He felt a vibration on his waist as he stepped out of the cavern. He pressed a button and opened a screen in front of him and saw his mother, Arabella Sang.

"Geronimo, where _are _you? The coronation's in thirty minutes! You don't want to be late, do you?" she asked in an irritated voice.

Geronimo looked at the time in the corner of his screen and felt his tail curl up in surprise. "Well, so it seems. Sorry about that, Mum. I seemed to have lost track of time," he said casually, scratching his nape. "It's easy forgetting about time in Florana."

Arabella looked at him with bewilderment and more irritability, her snout scrunching. "What are you doing in Florana?! You're on the other end of the galaxy! You're not going to make it in time!" Her ears flattened.

"Do not doubt me, Mum," Geronimo said with a wide grin. "I'll talk to you later." He pressed the button again to close his communicator and continued walking.

He traveled across the worn path he made when he found the cavern. Eventually, he had made it to his spacecraft, a jet-black star cruiser parked in a clearing in the forest. The Lycanian pressed a button with a key icon on his hip, causing the lights to shine on the ship and the engine to activate. He jumped into the cockpit and closed the windows, a light _thump _confirming that the cockpit was closed. After a few button presses, his ship levitated until he was above the thick canopy. Then, with a sudden forward jerk of the ship's yoke, Geronimo propelled himself through the planet's atmosphere, and found himself in the starry blackness of outer space within a few minutes.

"Next stop, tedium," Geronimo said with a sigh, his tail wagging slowly.


	2. Chapter 2

**What's good, guys? It's AquaRock. It's late, but I wanted to say merry Christmas and happy holidays to the few that read my stories. If you want updates to my stories faster, follow my deviantART page, where you'll find story updates as well as comical journals and status updates there. **

**To the guest who reviewed my last chapter, thank you for the review and the support. **

The palace had a sense of mirth as Tregsenian citizens gathered around the commons of the palace to witness the coronation ceremony. The commons were open to the public, armored sentinels taking watch over the celebration, spread out from wall to wall.

Tables were spread out across the commons for the event, adorned with tablecloths of red and yellow. Citizens sat at the tables and conversed with one another. The chatter from the people was combined with the pleasurable music from a small ensemble, who played elegant, classical music on acoustic instruments, such as a piano, a cello, a violin, and a flute. The ensemble was set in the front of the commons room.

Arabella and other royal associates sat in front of the civilians, the chairs on a raised platform in the ground. She sat with Rafael on her left and a white wolf one seat away from her on her right. The white wolf, appearing impatient, leaned over the vacant seat to say, "Where is he?"

She spoke with equal disbelief, "He told me he was in Florana."

"WHAT?!" the other wolf said loudly, getting attention from some Lycanians there, even stopping the ensemble nearby. The wolf looked around and saw all the eyes transfixed on him and blushed. Nervously smiling, he said, "Uh, c-carry on, all."

The ensemble resumed playing and the crowd continued talking. Rafael, with a concerned expression, looked at his mother and the white wolf. "Bruce, Mum, is everything all right?"

"Yes, Ra-" Arabella began.

"No, things aren't all right. Geronimo is not present, and he's the first speaker. I don't know whether to start without him or wait for him..." the white wolf stated, eyes widening in anguish. The white wolf was Bruce. He was the former royal adviser for Reginald Sang, who was trusted to conduct the ceremony before Reginald died. It was his first time conducting a meeting of such a large scale, and his nerves became more apparent as time went on.

"Well-" Rafael's speech was cut short when he heard footsteps behind him. He looked back to see Geronimo jogging toward the row of seats at which members of the royal crown sat. Arabella and Bruce looked back to see him as well.

"Hello there, mates, sorry I was late," Geronimo said casually as he took his seat beside his mother. Arabella frowned as she looked at Geronimo's clothes.

"Why did you choose something so wrinkled?" she asked, disgust creeping in her voice. "Have some more self-respect than that! You're speaking in front of people!"

Geronimo looked down at his clothes and shrugged. "Would you rather have me wear bloody clothes and attract more media attention?" Arabella's mouth hung agape.

Rafael was the only one to give a real welcome to Geronimo. "Glad you could make it, Geronimo."

"Thank you, brother dearest," the prince responded with a grin. "And, congratulations on, er, well, this." He gestured toward the common room.

"Uh, are we all ready or not?" Bruce asked impatiently. "We're late enough as we are!" There were no objections. He stood up to a wooden podium and made loud and clear taps on a microphone to get everyone's attention. The ensemble stopped playing. The crowd's full attention was toward the podium in front of the royal associates. He adjusted the microphone's sound levels before addressing the crowd.

"Welcolme, citizens of Tregsen!" the adviser beamed. Light reflected off of his bright red and yellow cloak as well as his brown eyes. "Now begins the coronation ceremony of Rafael Cornelius Sang, the 126th king of Tregsen in the Modern Age. Before the coronation will officially begin, however, a few people have been asked to say a few words. I, former royal adviser Bruce Franklin Kamowitz, will conduct this ceremony. The first speaker for tonight will be Geronimo Augustus Sang, Rafael's brother."

Revered silence preceded Geronimo's walk to the podium in the front center of the commons. He was attired in an untidy grey T-shirt and wrinkled loose-fitting jeans. They were the only clean clothes he had at the time. Ignoring the judgemental looks at him, Geronimo began to speak.

"Ever since he could talk, Rafael was very vocal of his desire to one day be involved in politics. As a child, he rarely took interest in the cartoons shown on the holovision programs. When he was five, he started watching Father's royal addresses, as well as political news from other provinces on our planet. He started studying political science at age seven..."

. . .

After everybody else on the platform had given their words of support for the new king, Rafael then had his turn. His walk to the podium garnered the most attention and gasps of adoration, and everyone rose from their seats before he spoke.

He went on to spew the same cliches Geronimo had expected, namely about how he would increase the province's slightly lower standard of living compared to other planets of the galaxy. He also mentioned a potential raise on the minimum wage. He made his final statements about his eventual reign.

"I would like to thank you all for attending this ceremony. My heart is full with gratitude and anticipation for the coming decades. Though I am king, I believe you all are in charge of this province, really. It is not my job to rule over you, but to represent what you all want in this province. My reign will be one where I do what is best for all of you. Support for me is essentially support for yourselves. Say it with me, if you please." Rafael stood up straighter as he got the crowd riveted. The audience stood up with him and joined him in chanting the country's motto. "Long live peace! Long live equality! Long live prosperity! Long live Treg-"

**_BAOW!_**

A sizable, grisly wound appeared in Rafael's chest. A countenance of horror appeared on the new king's face as he looked down at his predicament. A streak of light appeared during the gunshot, going from the wound to a window near the ceiling in front of Rafael. Then he fell backward after clutching his chest.

Panic had spread throughout the area as the legion of citizens just witnessed an assassination attempt on their king. Screaming and footsteps erupted among them, Lycanians running in all directions. Most people wanted to leave the palace in case any of them was next on the hit list. Some people wanted to see if Rafael would make it, a few holding cameras and anxiously trying to get a picture of the incapacitated imperator. But some royal guards had obstructed the civilians from getting any closer to the fallen king, while other guards were mobilizing in the area to protect the civilians

Meanwhile, Geronimo had noticed the shot being from a Flux Rifle-_a good choice for a long range shot, _Geronimo thought-and tried to get some idea of the assassin's identity. But in the night sky, it was nearly impossible to tell what or who hit Rafael. While the other royal associates had ducked down under the guards for protection, he was standing up.

"Geronimo, get down!" one of the guards said to him, equipping his N90 Hurricane as the other guards did. Geronimo reluctantly complied and crouched behind a few of the guards with his mother and Bruce Kamowitz. A few paramedics tended to Rafael as he barely hung on to the cusp of life.

"Rafael!" Arabella shrieked, distressed by the situation. The guards around her patiently, yet firmly directed her along with the rest of the royal as-sociates to the saferoom behind the commons. In the clamor occurring in the commons, one could distinctly hear Geronimo calling, "I will find your assassin, Rafael!"

. . .

Some hours later, the royal associates sat in the waiting room of Morslon Hospital, uneasily anticipating the result of the operation to potentially revive their injured king. Arabella sat beside Geronimo, holding his forearm tightly and sniveling. Geronimo, with a perturbed mien, held her wrist to console her.

The door that led from the waiting room to the hallway opened. Everyone's ears pointed toward the source of the noise and looked over to the nurse entering the waiting room. The nurse, a blue-furred female, slowly approached the group. She then stood in the middle of the entourage, anguish plastered in her golden eyes. Geronimo's tail curled, already assuming what everyone else was after seeing the look on the nurse's face. It appeared difficult for her to speak, what with her mouth opening and closing a few times before she spoke.

"Rafael has passed away," she announced to the waiting room. Her voice was brittle, almost in a whisper. The collective silence, however, facilitated hearing her message. The silence stretched onward as people in silent observance remembered the few moments they had of Rafael Cornelius Sang as their king. Then Arabella broke the silence when she began sobbing in regard to her son's death. She buried her face in Geronimo's shoulder.

A tear or two had fallen down Geronimo's face as well. As much as they contrasted, Rafael and Geronimo were about as close as brothers could get. Geronimo would support Rafael in his royal endeavors while Rafael would be glad to see Geronimo after doing something stupidly dangerous. Of course, in recent years, they have gone on their separate ways a bit, but that didn't lessen the pain felt in Geronimo's chest.

Mistresses, advisers, and secretaries joined the two in a display of dolefulness, some silently shedding tears, others noisily sobbing. That day in Tregsenian history would be known as one of darkness and despair, as the day when an assassin was successful in offing who would have been a beloved leader.

_Who would do this? And why? _Geronimo pondered as he hugged Arabella. _I will need to find the answers if I am to be at peace with myself._


End file.
